


Monsters Under Your Bed [Horror Shorts]

by EAI



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Dark Barry Allen, Horror, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Open to Interpretation, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-17 03:05:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12356151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EAI/pseuds/EAI
Summary: there aren't many horror fics here, and so, i introduce you my collection of coldflash horror-shorts. make sure to switch on your lights before reading, you've been sorely warned.*previous work title - coldflash october-horror shorts





	1. Tick-Tick-Tock

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, but do enjoy :D

 

 

 

—the clock ticks and tocks, slow and unchanging and dull, as Barry washes his hands and cleans the dirt underneath his fingernails. He pauses then when he realizes how far he has fallen. He has gone through so many sleepless nights, and he doesn’t know whose reflection he’s staring at anymore. Eyes sunken deep and tired, unkempt hair and sporting a beard. Looking a little thin. Skin a little pale. He hasn’t left his apartment until only a few hours ago.

And so, he showers off the grime and the dusts and the mud, spends a lot of his time under the cascade of hot water; puts on his pajamas and gets ready for bed. Barry tosses and turns, before he surrenders himself to just stare blankly at the ceiling, waiting.

The clock ticks and tocks.

Minutes have passed, hours maybe, when Barry hears his bedroom door creak open.

Len comes in, looking soft and sleep-rumpled, white as a sheet.

“I can’t sleep, Barry,” he says, crawling into Barry’s open arms. Barry gathers him close as Len burrows for his warmth, shivering. “It’s so cold down there.”

The clock ticks…

“I know, Len. I know.”

…and tocks.

Barry closes his eyes, clutching the coat Len is buried in.

 

 

 


	2. The Sitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then there's a loud screech of metal--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my first language, but do enjoy! :D

 

 

Len stifles a yawn as he boards the last train to Central City.

He finds his seat, stashes his bags in the overhead compartment before he flops down and settles comfortably with a long sigh, waiting for the train to depart and load its late-night passengers. It’s been such a long, busy week and he’s terribly homesick. He’s **dying** to go home. After a few minutes, Len looks around, curious. The other passengers in this coach with him; an elderly couple, a hooded-teenager holding hands with his girlfriend, a harried-looking mother and her two squabbling children, and a commuting nerd businessman. They mostly ignore one another, preferring to mind their own businesses, and that’s fine with him. Then comes the whistle and the station’s ringing bells seconds before the train is due to leave. He takes out his phone when he feels it vibrating in his pocket, and answers Barry’s call with a fond smile. Barry’s wondering where he is, oh how sweet of him, and Len replies he’s been caught up with his work, has boarded the last train and that he will be home very soon.

_“You better be, because I have a surprise for you.”_

“Please tell me you kept your beard.”

_“That, and something else,”_ Barry chuckles.

With a groan, Len says wistfully. “All right. I’ll be quick then.”

The call ends with a click, as Len resolves to spend the next few hours watching the view outside. Where the night’s starry sky blink and gleam; the lights of Keystone City flicker like burning fires, the glistening reflection of the bright full moon on the sea’s surface – somewhat reminds him of Central, a place where he belongs. And so, Len shuts his eyes, he can’t wait to see Barry again.

Then there’s a loud screech of metal, robbing him of his peace—

 

—Len stifles a yawn as he boards the last train to Central City.

He finds his seat, stashes his bags in the overhead compartment before he flops down and settles comfortably with a long sigh, waiting for the train to depart and load its late-night passengers. It’s been such a long, busy week and he’s terribly homesick. He’s **dying** to go home. After a few minutes where he mostly ignores the passengers who dawdle pass him, Len looks around, curious. To his left, a friendly pair of elderly couple whom he makes idle talks with. A few rows behind them, a hooded teenager holding and kissing his girlfriend’s bandaged hands. To their right, a harried-looking mother who is breaking the fight between her two young children. And at the very back, a commuting nerd businessman who is frowning at his phone. Nothing out of the ordinary. Len settles back on his seat, tossing his legs on the empty seat beside him. Then comes the whistle and the station’s ringing bells seconds before the train is due to leave. He takes out his phone when he feels it vibrating in his pocket, and answers Barry’s call with a fond smile. Barry’s wondering where he is, well of course since Len is his fiancée, and Len replies he’s been caught up with his work, has boarded the last train and that he will be home very soon.

_“You better be, because I have a surprise for you.”_

“Please tell me you kept your beard.”

_“That, and something else,”_ Barry chuckles. _“You’ll love it.”_

With a groan, Len says wistfully. “All right. I’ll be quick then.”

The call ends with a click, as Len resolves to spend the next few hours watching the view outside. He frowns, something feels a little out of place. Stress, he thinks, he’s been stressing over little things a lot recently. Where the night’s starry sky blink and gleam; the lights of Keystone City flicker like burning fires, the glistening reflection of the bright full moon on the sea’s surface – somewhat reminds him of Central, a place where he belongs. And so, Len shuts his eyes, he can’t wait to see Barry again.

Then there’s a loud screech of metal, robbing him of his peace—

 

—Len pauses, staring suspiciously at the door of his chosen coach. Everything feels somewhat déjà-vu, he’s lived this before. Twice, at the very least.

He’s the last to board the train, apparently, and he wishes that it’s all just some weird dream. Too real for a weird dream. He takes the empty spot two rows behind the harried-looking mother and her children, fighting over action figures, as the seat from his dream is taken by the nerd businessman. He places his bags in the overhead compartment, sits down and tries to calm the scare off his mind – counting numbers from one to ten, again and again.

By the time Len feels somewhat calmer, he’s perturbed by the silence in the coach. No more sounds of boys bickering and clashing noises of plastic toys, as he quickly realizes that the two children are staring at him. Eyes wide and dull, fingers digging into the cushion of their seats, action figures on the floor, faces blank and void.

“You can’t do that,” says the older brother.

“Do what?”

The younger sibling rises his head, and pitches in. “Noticing things. _He_ hates it.”

Len frowns.

Then there’s a loud screech of metal, a sudden brake that throws him out of his seat, robbing him of his—

 

—Len jerks awake, finding himself already seated in the train. His bags in the compartment above, same passengers with same actions and noises, all waiting for the train to leave the station. But different seating arrangements as Len is now sitting at the very back of the coach – away from the rest. He fumbles for his phone, answering Barry’s call with a quake in his voice, telling his fiancée of this bizarre thing he’s experiencing at the moment.

_“Len, take a deep breath. You’re all right,”_ he says.

But Barry doesn’t sound like he believes him, dream within a dream is possible and maybe that’s what Len is having. Barry tells Len that he needs and deserves long hours of good rest and sleep after a vicious week, and Len agrees with him. He just needs sleep. Then comes the whistle and the bells, and Len doesn’t end the call even after the train has left the station.

Keystone night’s starry night sky, blink and gleam.

The city’s lights flickering like burning fires.

Moon’s reflection on the sea—

_“L-Len… Len, baby, please talk to me.”_

Barry’s crying.

“Bar—“

Then there’s a loud screech of metal, snapping him to one side, head crashing against the window, robbing him of his—

 

—sequences of similar events looping over and over again, endlessly. Same train, same coach, same passengers, same actions, same dialogues. Different seating arrangements. Maybe it’s like Groundhog Day, he has to get something right. But nothing seems off. He wakes up, jumping a little when he feels fragile hands resting on his arm. It’s the one-half of the elderly couple, her husband nowhere to be found, yet her smile is so tender and warm. Like she understands the ordeal he’s going through.

“We can’t go home, dear. We just have to accept whatever happened to us,” she tells him.

A sense of dread comes crashing down on him, as a tear rolls down his cheek. “What exactly happened to us…?”

“Oh, you poor dear.”

Then there’s a loud screech of metal—

Then there’s a loud screech of metal—

Then there’s a loud screech of metal—

Then there’s a loud screech of metal—

**Then there’s a loud screech of metal—**

 

—Len is wide awake.

He is drenched in his own sweat, pale in fear, trembling on his seat at the very back, yet again.

Cornered.

The coach is quiet, nothing to look at both inside and out. No beauty at all. But what frightens him the most, as of this moment, is no longer the doldrums of being trapped in time, it’s the fact that he’s the only one who is still **alive**. Every single one of the same eight passengers, old to young, is now wrapped in white cloths from head to toe. Blood dripping and pooling and soaking. Hunched low and frozen bodies jostling against their armrests in this still moving train, buckled down by their seatbelts. Corpses occupying seats on rows before his eyes.

Then he hears a low growl somewhere on his right.

He shuts his eyes tightly, weeping before he takes a lot of courage to turn and look at the goddamn thing. He doesn’t get to, because everything goes pitch black. He can hear his own heart beating and pounding fast and painful against his chest. His breathing quick, his limbs shake.

There’s a thud seconds later, like something has been dropped to the floor, along with a dragging sound of something heavy. Then the coach’s lights flicker.

The corpses are now turned, facing him. Holes of where their eyes supposed to be, staring at him.

Pitch black. Another flicker.

The corpses are all standing, looming tall.

Pitch black. Another flicker.

They all lunge to grab him. He screams—

 

—Len sits on the bench outside his coach, hears the bodiless whistle and the tolling bells, watching the same passengers boarding the same train. He decides to stay behind as he wonders what will happen to him if he doesn’t go. Maybe he’ll be safer this way, avoid the train altogether. He wants to save the rest too, but some part of him says, they’ll never believe him. As he stands to leave, Len finally notices that there are no workers around. No waiting trains, no frantic passengers running to catch up their rides. Empty, abandoned. Len shakes his head, this is just a fucking nightmare, and moves a step back to the stairs for the lobby when the station suddenly goes absolutely dark.

He freezes, begging his legs to march out. He forces himself, searching for a way to escape this damnation, hands scrambling to catch whatever close to him.

Out of nowhere, he hears something. A loud growl – inhuman and slow, warning him not to go any further, demanding him to go _back_. Instead, he runs, he doesn’t know where he’s heading as he catches the scratches and shrieks of _something_ huge and fast chasing him. But Len misses a footing, stumbles and falls down, he lands on his back, hits his head on something sharp and solid. He cries in his pain just as he senses a heavy presence looming over him, caging him in. It breathes and sniffs at his neck, before it yanks Len by his foot.

“N-No….! No!” Len scrambles to grab hold of something but the _thing_ only hauls him and breaks all his limbs – flinging him back into the lit coach.

He knows it now, the thing has shown him what happened.

Nothing mysterious. Just an accident that took away all the lives of the passengers onboard.

But as Len breaks out of his haze, he finds a copy of himself – crumpled between a mess of bodies and bags and metals and seats. Soaking in deep scarlet, all mangled and struggling to breathe. Is he still alive…?

He hears a voice, from a broken phone not too far from him. _“L-Len… Len, baby, please talk to me.”_

Then there’s a loud screech of metal—

 

—tiredly, Len sits on his seat, placing his bags on the empty spot beside him as the other passengers slowly trickle in, filling the coach. The elderly couple. The nerd businessman. The mother and her boys. The young couple. He watches all eight of them, they don’t know a thing, as they reenact exactly what they did before all of them died.

Len cries. He’s had enough.

His phone vibrates, Barry’s calling, and so he answers.

_“Hey, babe! I know I’ve been calling you non-stop since yesterday… and honestly, I don’t care since I’ve pretty much embarrassed myself with a Lego block stuck on my knee when I proposed to you.”_ He babbles. _“Anyway, I just—I have a bad feeling.  And I just want you to be safe on your trip home.”_

Barry sighs, scratching his beard by the sound of it. _“I know you don’t want me to be overly-protective of you, but I can’t help it. I just love you so much…”_

Len brings his hand to his mouth, shutting out all his cries.

_“Len? You there?”_

“Yeah,” he says, laughing a little. “I really want to go home now, Barry.”

_“Wait, you are on your way, right?”_

“I am.”

He’s close, he’s so much closer to home. It’s not that far. But he can’t. He can never go home.

_“You better be, because I have a surprise for you.”_

 

 

 


	3. Say You Love Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \--the CCPD has little to no progress in finding the missing Hollywood star--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this may be a thriller, not a horror. but it can be extremely horrific to victims of kidnapping. i am now warning you, before it's too late, that this is a dark!barry, non-con coldflash chapter. if this is not your cup of tea, then please exit while you can.

 

 

 

—as Barry prepares for breakfast, a good serving of perfect caramel pancakes; sizzling bacon, scrambled eggs with parmesan cheese and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, he takes a few attentive glances at the breaking news on TV – apparently, the CCPD has little to no progress in finding the missing Hollywood star, as the actor’s family and friends and fans are praying for his safe return. He switches off the television as he answers his step-sister’s call with a cheery hello. She asks him if he’s busy later in the afternoon, desperately needing someone to accompany her to all bridal stores in the city. Barry looks at the mess on his dining table, papers and books and tools everywhere.

He regretfully says – yes, he’s busy and he will probably be too occupied until sometime next week.

But she understands, Iris is his best friend and a great sister.

“Don’t drink too much coffee now, Barry. It’s a given that humans need to sleep,” she teases him before she hangs up with a soft click.

Barry shakes his head, a small smile curving on his lips, because little does Iris know that Barry has a new method to satisfy his _fix_ , his addiction now. He assembles the pancakes with a healthy pour of maple syrup, strips of bacon and eggs onto a plate before he places them on a tray with the glass of orange, and brings them to the basement downstairs. Because he coordinates everything. He plans his moves perfectly, down to the tiniest detail. He’s destroyed the traces he’s left behind, and no one will ever find him here. He juggles the tray as he opens the door, down the few steps, walk through the dimly-lit room for a hidden corner. Barry easily cracks the three locks open, pulls the door wide and enters _Len’s_ quarters.

There is hardly any furniture – only a soft, king-sized mattress with pillows and blankets; a table and two chairs, and a drawer for Len’s clothes. He spots Len huddling at the farthest corner, jolting when Barry speaks his name, gathering his naked legs close to his chest as he glares his beautiful sapphires at him.

“I made breakfast. Eat for me, please? You haven’t been eating enough, and I’m worried,” he says, crouching a few feet away from his pretty little guest.

But Len refuses to move, hands and legs trembling as he continues to bravely glare at him. Barry sighs, this is a problem as he scratches the back of his neck. Len is so stubborn. Oh well, desperate time calls for desperate measure.

“Remember what I said, five months ago?” he begins, placing the tray on the table before he approaches his captive. He grabs the chain that has been locked around Len’s ankle, and yanks it. Len slides down to the floor with a gasp, struggling when Barry forces his legs open and hides his face away when Barry cages him between his arms. Barry grins, bringing his lips to Len’s ear, “If you don’t listen to me, I’ll hurt you. But baby, I don’t want to give you any scars. I love you, and I love you so much. Don’t you love me?”

Len whimpers, eyes tearing.

“Say you love me.”

“I… I-I love you.”

“Good boy.”

 

 

 

 


	4. Psychotic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "--today's supposed to be a very special day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning (s) : implied non-con and violence, and morally ambiguous, dark! ray palmer. if this not your cup of tea, please exit while you still can.

 

 

 

Ray meets up with Constantine for brunch at the local diner, where the PI hands him a folder full of incriminating pictures of his love and a stranger – at bars, hotels, restaurants – text messages, and transcripts of phone calls. Constantine has worked out the schedule of Len’s meetings with this pathetic-excuse of a police officer, and what do you know, Ray guesses he’s lucky he’ll get to see him tomorrow night.  

Or not so lucky at all since tomorrow is supposed to be his and Len’s anniversary of the day they met.

“He’s a beautiful man though, your fiancée,” Constantine comments as he sips on his coffee. “It’s normal to feel jealous.”

But Ray narrows his eyes, and if people ask where the PI is the next few days, don’t bother.

Come tomorrow night, Ray drives back home from his pretend business meeting in Star City, and catches them together. His world falls apart the second he sees Len moaning and writhing in pleasure in the arms of another man. He is hurt and betrayed by the person he’s supposed to marry and live happily forever after together. Now all of his dreams have washed down the drain, useless.

It happens so quickly and by the time Ray is aware of what he has done, Barry is on the floor, profusely bleeding from the knife Ray has jabbed on his back. The sharp, iron smell snaps something within him, and the gushing auburn blood surges both his adrenaline, and his hate. He yanks Len by his arm, bruising Len’s skin as he hauls and locks him in the bathroom. Ray tunes out Len’s cries and begs as he takes his time moving the dresser for the hidden compartment he has built into the wall. He reaches for the semi-auto, casually loading his gun with a nice magazine, staring down at Barry who is sweating, and turning deathly pale.

“He’s the love of my life,” Ray quietly says. “I deserve to have him, I want to spend the rest of my years with him. I want to marry him, I want to adopt kids with him. So, why? Why in the fucking world are you taking him away from me?”

Barry grimaces. “W-We're about to tell you, we—“

“ _We_?” he interrupts. “No… Len doesn’t love you. He loves me! He only loves me!”

“He’s never in love with you!” Barry spits. 

-

Barry’s love for him is unconditional, unlike Raymond who controls everything in his life, whom he has to please with hiding the scars written on his body with paints and concealers every other night. Barry has offered him a chance to escape, to live a second life with him – and it may not be paradise but Len has found home whenever he’s safe in the warmth of Barry’s arms. But Len knows what Raymond is capable of doing if he finds out about them, and has warned Barry about it. Barry has assured him, with a sweet kiss on his forehead, he will fight for him.

He will take him out of this house.

He will love him for the rest of his life.

They will disappear together.

Len is paralyzed with fear when shots are fired, he drops to the cold bathroom floor, scrambling to the corner. He remembers his father’s abuse, how the man nearly killed him and his sister, and to have lived so far away from the neighbors doesn’t do much help.

Then the lock clicks, and the door creaks open, revealing Raymond soaked in blood.

-

Ray squats down in front of his love, his gun dangling in his hand. “Baby, listen to me, okay? Barry is manipulating you, he’s using you.”

“R-Raymond, I-I—“

“He doesn’t love you, but I love you. Don’t you love me anymore?” he asks, as innocently as he can. But when Len doesn’t reply him nor look at him in the eye, he grips his love’s jaw. “Len.”

“I-I don’t love you.” Tears run down his love’s cheeks, pearls of beautiful baby blues staring back at him. “I’m scared of y-you…”

Yes, he does feel the hate brimming and boiling and churning.

“Raymond… Please.”

But he doesn’t let the hate control him, he lets the unknown serenity that he feels instead. And it’s so euphoric that it’s great. He hauls Len yet again to the bedroom, where Barry’s body lie prone and lifeless, littered with gunshot wounds and the still protruding knife. With a saw on the side, and a large canvas, Ray shoves Len down to his knees, forcing him to hover over Barry’s head as he draws his gun with a satisfying click.

“P-Please, Raymond…! I beg of you—”

-

“ _9-1-1, what’s your emergency?_ ”

Ray takes a deep breath, running a hand down his face, as he cradles the naked, stone cold body of his love close to him. “Today’s supposed to be a very special day.”

 

 

 


End file.
